“You included, Caryatid. I hate that I brought you into this, but I really think, going forward, you should be able to look back on this with pride. You saved me when I needed it, back there.”

“It was instinct.”

“It was good,” I said, dropping my eyes to the floor. “It was teamwork.”

“I was barely even thinking. I was scared. I just thought if you got hurt then there was no way I’d be okay.”

“Sometimes that’s all it is. Even for capes like Legend, probably. You were brave enough to move when you needed to move.”

“That’s what I was saying,” Withdrawal said.

The conversation was interrupted by another meaty sound. Samuel delivering a kick to the face.

The man on the ground bawled, speaking between sobs. A constant flow of words.

“Vic,” Precipice said.

I realized I was clenching my fist. I couldn’t quite bring myself to unclench it.

“Precipice.”

“While I’m working on my hand, I think we could temporarily load something of Lookout’s into a computer line over there. She’d appreciate the update.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” I asked.

“I thought a distraction might help.”

I nodded, holding out my hand.

“You’re clear, Precipice,” Venarum said.

The terminal was akin to a breaker box, painted-over in white, a pipe running straight up and straight down from it. Within was a touchscreen.

Kenzie’s thing was like an old phone. I set it into place, ran the cable along the side until I saw a green light, then hit the first button.

The dead body was so close.

What life had he lived? What led him here, to be some kind of plague-driven giant who murdered, capitalized, and worked with a syringe woman, in some alien hallways in an alien world?

The syringe woman lay dead, arms stretched out to her sides, multiple gouges running down each arm. Her expression bothered me.

Red light at the first button. I hit the second.

An image of Kenzie’s helmet appeared.

“Checking in,” I said. “Can you hear?”

“I can hear. How is everyone?”

“Tough fight, but we’re intact. We met with members of the first wave attack. We’re up to the second floor now.”

“Good,” she said.

Quiet, not nearly as wordy as she usually was. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the moment contact was established after any time apart, she could be counted on to try to make up for lost time with a flood of words.

Was she upset?

“Sorry we’re leaving you out of this,” I said. “If you were here I think you’d want to have been left out.”

“Maybe. Probably,” she said.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Are you safe?”

“I’m safe.”

“What’s the first password?”

“HSP-See-Out-Gawking-Hawk. Is there a time soon I can take a break?”